"The lady's name is Mrs. Peyton. She's a widow, and she's just moved here. If her husband knew anything about the man you want, he took it with him to his grave." Tyler was tired of this game. He wanted Evie away from this giant before somebody did something rash. Or before Logan really started paying attention to the woman standing there in next to nothing instead of to the gun in her hand.
Logan scowled. "It's only been twenty years, and the man didn't have a son. Unless she married a baby, we ain't talking about the same people. Let's just call it quits."
Evie politely lowered her gun. "Did you find the money you lost earlier, Mr. Logan?"
Tyler clicked the hammer back again as the man's fists clenched. Logan threw him a furious look, but he kept his hands to himself. "I mean to find out who took it. I keep what's mine."
Tyler could see what Evie was about to do even before she did it. With a sigh of exasperation, he grabbed the gun from her hand. "Get in the house, now. Then I'll give him back his gun."
Evie sent him a petulant look, thought better of replying in kind, lifted her robe, and gingerly traced her way to the rear of the house and out of sight. The two men watched her go.
"Just leave her alone and you'll do fine. Half the men in this town are ready to kill for her, and the other half haven't met her yet. You really don't want to get into that." Tyler kept his gun primed, but handed Logan his.
Logan took the weapon, gave Tyler a long look, and shoved it back in his holster. "If I find she's been lying..."
"It wouldn't be anything new. But take my word for it, she's from back East and doesn't know a thing about your man."
Accepting that, Logan shrugged and made his way back down the alley to the lights of town. Tyler watched him go, then turned back to the house and the lying, conniving brat inside.
Except she wasn't inside. She was tiptoeing around the far end of the building and up on the front porch. Tyler nearly winged her before he realized what he was aiming at. Disgruntled, he released the trigger and shoved his gun back where it belonged.
"Damn it, Evie, you're going to get yourself killed creeping around like that. I told you to get back inside."
"I can't talk to you inside. Daniel or Carmen or someone would hear." Evie sat down on the front step and wrapped her feet under her for warmth. The white robe spread in a halo around her.
Hell, that was what he'd wanted anyway, along with a few other things he didn't dare mention. Crossing his arms over his chest, Tyler slumped against the porch post and regarded her warily. "So, talk."
Evie threw him an irritated look. "You don't have to treat me like a criminal. You know why I had to call myself a widow."
"But you're not. Your name is Peyton. I assume that means your father's name is Peyton, too. And you came back here looking for someone. It wasn't any sister, was it?"
"It could be. I don't know." Evie looked away. Tyler in frock coat and cravat was too handsome to endure for long. She wanted to be in his arms, and it wasn't his shirt that she wanted to feel beneath her hands. "I don't even know that my father's name is Peyton. I don't know who my father is."
Tyler slid down the post to sit beside her and contemplate that thought for a while. It could be another lie. He had grown up knowing his father and his grandfather and his grandfather's father. He could recite his family history back to the first Monteigne who came to New Orleans back in the late 1700's. But his family wasn't so insulated that he didn't know about orphans and bastards and the rest of the world's refuse. He just couldn't place Evie among their numbers. She breathed wealth as naturally as air.
"All right, let's say for the moment that you don't know who your father is. What about your mother? Couldn't she tell you? And what about other relatives? And this Nanny you keep talking about? Are you telling me no one knows who your father is?"
Evie slanted him a look that could have meant anything. "Surprised? Who did you think you married, Louisa May Alcott?"